Biting my tongue, I nod.
Jimmy’s eyes narrow upon my uncouth parents. There’s skepticism in his stare, caution in the way he brings his hand to his chin. He’s calibrating how far an apple falls from the tree, glancing back between my parents and me, and my stomach turns, knowing my future may still be tied to them. Jimmy could walk away from me and Zerena—discard us like a couple of empty beer cans—should he judge we’re destined to be as sketchy as my parents. He stretches his arms, and my stomach knots up when I see indecision on his face, but then his generous smile reappears as if he’s actually happy to make my parents’ acquaintance.
Jimmy saunters toward my mother.
“Ahh . . . Belinda. Laurel’s told me so much about you.” Jimmy takes my mother’s hands, one in each of his. My mother, rarely the center of anyone’s attention, becomes uncomfortable, but then Jimmy says, “My, my. I totally see it.”
My mother flinches. “Huh?”
“You’re where Laurel gets her beauty. You really are. Please don’t be offended, but for as long as I’ve known Laurel, she’s told me she gets all her beauty from you, and now I can see she’s right.”
My mother blushes enthusiastically. It still amazes me how Jimmy sets people at ease and earns their confidence. Never is there an unkind word from his lips. Part of me feels angry at him for being so nice, but it’s his good manners, his propensity to be generous, that first attracted my eye. I’ve never met a man like him, and neither has my mother. It’s like he’s too good to be true. She flutters her eyelashes, stutters a bashful thank-you.
My father, not to be outdone, sticks out his hand. “What has she told you about me?”
Jimmy, swimming in his rarefied financial circles, never met a man like my father before. Jimmy takes a good look at him. An expectant expression comes over my father. He rolls up his sweatshirt sleeves, revealing the tattooed cobra on his arm he acquired during a two-week stretch in prison after pleading guilty to an aggressive panhandling charge.
“Ahh. Tully. Tully. Shall I be frank?”
My father’s eyes widen with the realization he may not like what he’s about to hear. Giving a barely perceptible nod, he braces himself.
“Tully, you were a strict father.”
My father takes a breath. He expected high praise, but now he’s about to be cut down to size.
“But never too strict,” Jimmy says.
“What else does she say about me?”
“You were wise, but like most children, Laurel didn’t learn to appreciate your wisdom until after she left home. Isn’t that true?”
“Damn right,” Tully says, looking at me from the corner of his eye. “You got that right. Even now, she doesn’t give me the credit I deserve.”
“Don’t be harsh. Everything comes in good time. A daughter like Laurel is like a fine instrument: treat her with respect, and she’ll pay you back in spades. You’re an intelligent man, right? The past is past. No sense crying over what happened back then. Look forward. That’s the way to go.”
“Who is this wonderful friend of yours, Laurel?” my mother asks.
Jimmy’s eyes rove toward mine, eager to see how I’ll introduce him. So much in our relationship remains unsettled, but he’s been an absolute gentleman so far, showing more mercy to me and my parents than we deserve, so I decide to take a calculated gamble and make the announcement I’ve longed to make.
“Mom. Dad. This is my fiancé, Jimmy Wainsborough. He’s Anne Elise’s father. I’m sorry if this seems sudden, but we’ve been seeing each other for a while now, and we’re getting married soon.”
Jimmy arches his eyebrows, and then, just as quickly, his expression returns to normal. I know we’re going to have to talk about this more, but this is the first time I’ve ever told anyone about our relationship, and it feels like some magnificent threshold has been crossed. My parents are speechless. Moments ago, they looked at me as if I were a pitiful coyote who’s come roaming back to the burrow with her tail hanging low between her legs. Now, my father slaps Jimmy on the back, offers his congratulations, while my mother asks Jimmy if she can hold our baby. This is her first actual contact with Zerena, and emotional as I am, I reach for my cell phone and snap a picture. My mother and Zerena are in the foreground, right in front of Jimmy and my father.
“So what kind of business are you in?” Tully asks Jimmy. “You’ve got a job, don’t you?”
“I’m a financial advisor.”
“So you peddle stocks, do you?”
Jimmy laughs, but he’s wary of telling too much about what he does because he doesn’t like being tapped for free investment advice. Nor does he relish being hit up for loans, as happens sometimes when strangers discover he’s wealthy.
“So what firm do you work for? Are you a salary man, or do you work on commission?”
As my father deluges Jimmy with questions, it dawns on me that he’s elated but also that he feels obligated to do the prudent father thing, making sure my suitor is a good prospect or, at least, financially solvent. As if he couldn’t otherwise figure as much from the quality of Jimmy’s elegant suit.
“I work for O’Neill, Joseph, and Fitzgerald.”
My father, who likes to believe he’s an investor because he once opened an IRA account when he held a Midas garage job for two whole years, scratches his head. “Never heard of them.”
“It’s the kind of wealth-management firm that flies under the radar unless, well, you need a wealth-management firm,” Jimmy says, and then, when my father starts to say something more, Jimmy puts his finger against his lips. Zerena is asleep on my mother’s shoulder, and he takes her and lays her in her bassinet and sweeps the little pink baby blanket over her.
“Maybe we should turn off the lights?” Jimmy asks.
My father, uncharacteristically obedient, walks across the room and flips the light switch off. I, too, am feeling tired. Motherhood is all about multitasking, but it’s also about getting enough rest so you can do the things you need to do. As much as I’d like to prolong the good feelings and chat, soon Zerena will awake again, crying to be nursed.
“Hey, maybe we should give the new mom a little naptime?” Jimmy says, attentive to my need for rest.
Before she leaves, my mother circles back to me and whispers, “Hey, congratulations. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks, Mom. It’s good to see you again,” I say. Before today, I hadn’t realized how much I missed seeing my mother. “Those blue earrings you have are real pretty on you.”
My mother blushes. She tilts her head and takes the earrings off, being careful to stick their backs onto their pins, and lays them in my palm. Her hands clasp around mine, and it’s almost painful, seeing how happy she is to be giving me these earrings. “Be sure to soak them for a bit in rubbing alcohol before you wear them. If they looked good on me, lord knows how beautiful they’ll look on you.”
Chapter Twelve
JIM